The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot Novelisation
by Josman
Summary: With the BBC busy filming Doctor Who's 50th anniversary, some of the classic Doctors resort to desperate measures to get on it.
1. Waiting For The Call

**Author's notes: I'm informed that The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot was never made available outside the UK. So I should Explain. The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot was a 30 minute story, written by Peter Davison, in which he, Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy play themselves resorting to desperate measures to get on to the 50****th**** anniversary special. Essentially, this was a way for anyone who wanted to be in the 50****th**** anniversary to get on screen without having to be written into Day Of The Doctor (and there were a surprisingly high number of people willing to cameo.)**

**Disclaimer: I'm not sure how to disclaim real person fics… Whatever I'm supposed to disclaim, I disclaim it!**

**The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot**

"_Wait a minute… I'm the bad guy in this!" _

"_Have you only just realised?"_ – **Steven Moffatt and Peter Davison, watching the finished film.**

**Chapter 1: Waiting For The Call**

It was Christmas day 2012 and Peter Davison had gathered with his sons to watch _The Snowmen_. They sat there watching Matt Smith and Jenna Louise Coleman being menaced by killer piles of snow. Peter was pleased to see that Joel had hidden behind the sofa.

"Very nice." He said, turning it off as the end credits came up.

"So, Doctor Who's been going on for 50 years now?" Said Louis.

"Yes. That's right." He nodded.

"Is there going to be an anniversary special next year, Dad?" Joel put his head above the sofa.

"Oh, I'm sure there will be."

"Yeah, but will you be in it?" Said Louis.

Peter smiled. Pleased to hear that the world would be glad to see him make a return. "I dunno. I'm sure they'll have more than one Doctor."

"So it could be just Matt Smith and David Tennant then?" Said Joel.

Peter was less pleased by that idea. "Well… I suppose it could be…"

"Great!" The boys both cheered and ran off. Evidently, they didn't care at all. Nonetheless, Peter determined himself to make them proud.

* * *

_The old BBC Centre smelt the same as Peter made his way back there one bright and sunny day._

_As he stepped into the shiny new entrance hall, he was met my Matt Smith, grinning broadly. "Peter! Peter, really, this is such a great honour. Thank you for coming, thank you so much!" He shook his hand enthusiastically._

_As he moved into the corridors, he passed by Jenna Coleman, who said to him. "You were always my mum's favourite."_

_Wait, that wasn't right. He backed up. "You were always my favourite." She said. That was better._

_He carried on, towards his meeting with Steven Moffatt, who was similarly pleased to see him. "I have dedicated the 50th anniversary script to you." The showrunner held up the script. On the front page were the words. "For Peter Davison, my Doctor."_

_From there it was straight on to make up, where three ladies ushered him into a chair in front of the mirror. _

"_Please sit down, Mr Davison."_

"_You haven't changed a bit."_

"_You're so wonderful."_

"_Bless you!"_

_A costume man stuck his head in the door. "I'll just put your costume in your Winnebago, Mr Davison."_

"_You're dreaming, Pete." Said a familiar voice. He turned to his right and saw Janet Fielding towering over him. "They're not gonna call you. They're not gonna call any of you. They don't want you, Pete! You need to wake up Pete. You need to walk the dog Pete. Pete… You need to walk the dog. Pete…"_

"…Pete!" His wife called from downstairs. "You need to walk the dog!"

Peter groaned and pulled himself out of bed, trying not to think about the number of amateur psychologists and 5/Tegan shippers who would love to have seen that.

* * *

The dog was small, but deceptively strong. As usual, it spent its walk dragging Peter round his neighbourhood. Which was a particular problem today, as Peter was trying to make some phone calls at the same time. "No no, you don't understand, you're my agent! I'm just calling to see if they've rung about the 50th anniversary special!"

* * *

Sylvester McCoy straightened out his jacket, so that the taxi driver would be able to see the Hobbit t-shirt he was wearing. He was on his way to the airport, where he'd be flying back to New Zeeland. He'd left some voicemails with the BBC to let them know he was going now. So naturally, they'd be phoning him today, to avoid having to pay the extra bills.

He looked at his phone once more. _You have no new messages_.

* * *

Colin Baker sat at his kitchen table, reading an old Sixth Doctor magazine supplement (thankfully in black and white. He hated that coat as much as anybody.) He took another look at his phone. Still no new messages.

* * *

December turned to January. Sylvester was still listening intently for the phone, as he sat in his trailer, cutting a paperback of _The Hobbit_ into three parts.

* * *

Back in Britain, Peter was listening to the radio as he drove to the hotel which was holding a minor convention.

"That was John Barrowman there with I Am What I Am, lovely stuff." Said the DJ. "Now talking of John Barrowman, it's the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who. And it's been announced today that there'll be a special on television for the 50th anniversary. Do you think they'll bring back all the old Doctors, like they used to do ? I hope they will. Er, who was your favourite Doctor. Mine was... probably Peter Cushing. Controversial decision but…"

Peter shut off the engine, and therefore the radio. Tired of waiting, he decided to try a different approach. He pulled out his phone and dialled.

Georgia Moffett/Tennant had just moved from the sofa to the kitchen table, which was surprisingly tiring in her heavily pregnant state. She looked at the phone as it started to ring and rolled her eyes. She muted the phone and got back to spooning ice cream into her mouth with a stick of celery.

Peter left a short message, before pulling on some dark glasses to avoid being recognised and making his way to the reception. "I'm here to check in."

"Can I take your name please?" Said the receptionist.

Peter lifted his glasses slightly, the way he'd seen Hollywood stars doing. The woman just looked at him blankly. "Peter Davison." He said at last.

"I'll just look up your booking."

"Do I have any messages?"

"No."

* * *

A few hours later, he was sat in a room, signing a small stack of photographs.

"You're my favourite you know." Said a girl in a Tom Baker shirt. Peter smiled and signed his name once more. "Mr Davison - are you going to be featured in the 50th anniversary sp..."

"Next!" Said Peter, reaching for his phone once more.

* * *

Niky's desk in the BBC production office was loaded with more Doctor Who memorabilia than a small sci-fi shop. Not that it ever increased her enthusiasm for the job. Nothing ever would. "BBC production office." She said into the phone.

"Yes, hi. My name is Peter Davison, I was, er, Doctor number five, actually, in the classic era, way back in the day. Still alive and kicking though, you know. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure that you have my mobile number, just in case... Steven, or... anybody wanted to get in touch. 50th anniversary special, and all that."

Niky rolled her eyes. "Didn't you call yesterday?"

"Well… yes, I…I may have called yesterday..."

"No, you did. Call yesterday. And the day before that. You wanted to make sure I had the right number for you. 50th anniversary special, and all that?"

"Look, I don't suppose Steven's there is he?"

She thought. At least it would get rid of him "Please hold."

* * *

In a windowless office with _Do not disturb, very vital work going on_ written on the door, Steven heard his phone ringing. "Yes."

"I've got another one on the phone." Said Niky.

"Which one?"

"Number five, I think."

"Tell him I'm in a meeting and put him through to voicemail." He hung up the phone. "Now then. Where were we?" On the table he was in the midst of planning out the anniversary special by playing with his action figures and scribbling down what happened. In his mind, he was the divine god of the Whoniverse, decreeing how all things should be. And no classic series Doctors were going to tell him how to run it.

Just then he had a thought and picked the phone back up. "And make sure we are not disturbed for the rest of the day."

"We?" Said a baffled Niky.

Some time later, he decided to give Peter's message a listen. "... and then I could turn up with my celery antidote, and save Matt! And then it would..." Steven hit the button to delete the message.

* * *

Colin sat reading the copy of _The Hobbit_ that Sylvester had sent him, whilst still listening intently for the phone.

Marion, his wife, stuck her head round the door. "Since all you've done for the last four weeks is stare at that telephone, do you think there's a chance you might come and help me down in the garden?"

"Which part of the garden?"

"Right down the bottom."

"Well, the thing is, you don't get much of a signal down at the bottom!"

Marion groaned. "Well, if thy call, surely they'll leave a message!"

"Alright." He sighed. "I'll be down in a minute."

* * *

After spotting Benedict Cumberbatch, a few minutes before, trying to convince Steven, over the phone that he really needed to know how Sherlock survived, Sylvester realised that Steven must be near his phone at this point. He waited for Benedict to ring off then phoned him.

Once again, he was put through to voicemail. "I just wanted to let Steven know that although I'm filming The Hobbit at the moment - it's a big blockbuster movie directed by Oscar-winning Peter Jackson - erm, I think I will be available to film the 50th anniversary... oh. Oh, right. And leave a voicemail. Oh. All right then. Yeah. Hi, Steven? It's Sylvester here. I'm filming The Hobbit at the moment, with Peter Jackson..."

* * *

Colin, as it turned out, was little interested in gardening. He ignored the looks of irritation from his wife as he climbed on top of the wheelbarrow to make another call. "This is Colin Baker speaking. The sixth Doctor Who? Could you put me through to... what do you mean, "Oh no, not another one"?"

* * *

Christopher Eccleston's wife heard the phone ring and picked it up. "Hello… Hello again Steven… No, I'm afraid… I'm sorry but he did ask me to use these exact words. He says "I'm not interested in Doctor bloody Who. I've got better things to do. Now piss off."… All the best. Bye."

From the next room, she heard a steady thump, where Chris was throwing darts at a picture of Tom Higgleston, muttering "I was supposed to be the main villain."

* * *

Some time later, Steven listened to his overly crowded voicemail as he was driven home. "... meets the Hobbit, and I could be in it twice!..." Sylvester was saying.

Steven hit a button "Message deleted."

"Steven! Er, Colin here! How about this? The TARDIS materialises in the jungle! Exactly where I'm filming I'm a Celebri..."

He hit the delete button again. "Doctors deleted." Said a Cyberman voice. "You have no more messages."

That was odd, he didn't remember uploading that.

* * *

Peter returned home looking gutted. He decided to break the news gently to the boys, who were playing one of The Adventure Games. "Boys. Can I talk to you for a moment? I'm afraid I have some very bad news. It seems there's a very real possibility that - I won't be in the 50th anniversary special. I know it's a mistake, but... somehow I..."

The boys returned to their game, completely unphased.

"Right. OK." He got up, suddenly determined once more.

* * *

Steven got very little sleep of late. He was bombarded night and day by hordes of Doctor Who stars who wanted to be in the anniversary special. Why couldn't they just bugger off and make some sort of short film as a tribute of their own? Perhaps even make a story out of their attempts to get on the programme.

Not only were they ringing him all day, but their floaty heads wre haunting his dreams, flying round his head, fifth Doctor's regeneration style.

"…the kids already know me from _Death of the Doctor_, Steven…" Said Katy Manning.

"I've always wanted to meet the Dalkes on screen, Steven…" Said Louise Jameson.

"Why won't you show tribute to his roots, Steven?" Said Carole Ann Ford.

"Russell would have put me in it, Steven." Said Sophie Aldred.

"Please Steven." Said Deborah Watling, her voice joining the ever growing babble.

"Steven…" Said Sarah Sutton.

"Steven…" Said Anneke Wills.

"Steven…" Said K9.

"Steven…" Said Lisa Bowerman.

Just then, Mathew Waterhouse's head flashed up larger than the others. "It's me isn't it?"

Steven woke with a start. In his head, he could still hear Mathew's fading voice singing "Now I'll never know if I was right…"

* * *

January turned into February. February decided to give March a miss and skip on to April. Still no call came.

There was a larger convention taking place in London at the start of the month. Large enough for Doctors 5-8 to be in attendance.

This had been an opportunity for them to put their heads together and agree that if they were to convince the BBC, they'd need to do it together.

At least three of them had. Paul McGann was sat to one side of the hospitality suite, looking through some papers.

"What do you think he's doing?" Said Sylvester.

"Reading a script. Well, he's always reading scripts. And filming. Always filming." Said Colin.

"It's probably for TV." Said Sylvester. "I mean, who wants to do TV? It's not like it's a motion picture."

"Oh, shut up!"

At this point, Peter returned from the hallway, where he'd been making some phone calls. "OK, I've had a call from my contact, I know the filming dates and I've got a plan."

"Your contact? Who is this contact?" Said Colin.

"I've picked up a few contacts over the years." He said offhand.

"Oh, I've picked up quite a few contacts while filming The Hobbit." Said Sylvester, as the other two gave him a look of disdain.

"Anyway, my contact…"

"This contact wouldn't have a Scottish accent and be married to your daughter, would he?"

"I can't reveal that." Peter said awkwardly.

From across the room, they heard Paul speak up, he got on the phone to his agent. "Well, that's perfect, because it fits in with the other one. Yeah, excellent, excellent. Listen, by the way, er - not that I care at all, but, you haven't heard from the BBC about that Doctor Who special, have you? Nothing at all. No no no, it's OK. No, no, that's fine. Well, I'll speak to you soon. Yeah. Bye bye." Paul swore as he put the phone down.

"Do you think we should call Tom?" Said Sylvester.

"Tom?" Said Colin, alarmed.

"Why?" Said Peter.

"Well, solidarity. He may want to join the team.

"Tom?" Colin said again.

"Yes, I suppose we should." Said Peter.

Thy all looked at the phone with a sense of dread.

"Well, call him then." Said Sylvester.

"No, it was your idea. You call him!" Said Peter.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Said Colin. "I've eaten possum's anus on live television. Can't be worse than that. I'll call him."

* * *

Tom Baker wasn't sure how he'd ended up in 1970s Cambridge, punting down the Cam. This sort of situation hadn't happened since he'd been off the booze. Plus, they'd banned him from punting here after that time he'd tried it in the nude (as he'd been happy to tell everyone on _Little Britain_).

He heard his phone ringing and fumbled around for it, while simultaneously trying to hold on to the pole. He was so distracted by it that he failed to notice the huge glassy iceberg floating out of the sky to kidnap him.

* * *

Doctors 5-7 listened to Tom Baker's voice on the voicemail. "Greetings, greetings, greetings. Well, I seem to be stuck in the sodding time vortex. Again! So I can't assist you. Just one of the many regrets of my life. Goodbye, my dears!"

"He's been in the pub again." Muttered Sylvester.

As they switched the phone off, they looked up to see Paul standing over them. "Whatever it is you're planning, I'm in. Work permitting, obviously."

* * *

As they made to leave, Sylvester had concerns of his own. "I'd like to get more involved, but tomorrow I'm flying to New Zealand. More filming on The Hobbit."

Colin rolled his eyes once more. "Are you in _The Hobbit_? I never would have guessed!"

"When are you back?" Said Peter.

"Oh, I don't know, sometimes I sit days and days in my trailer."

"Oh, get your priorities right, Sylvester, this is not some flash in the pan five million dollar picture! This is important!" He stormed off. Jemma Churchill, who happened to be walking by in full Bavarian dress, ran after him.

"I'd better be off home." Said Colin. "I'm expecting a special delivery!"

* * *

As they heard Colin coming in, Marion looked at her daughters in alarm. "The package!"

"Did you hide it?" Said one of them.

"No, I didn't think."

"Maybe he won't notice it!"

"He'll notice it."

"Ohhhh yes!" Colin came into the living room, clutching a wadge of Amazon packaging and a _Vengeance On Varos_ DVD.

"Told you."

"One of my best." Colin beamed. "You will love it! Many say it's a classic!" He went over and put it in the player. "Bought, of course, to replace the one that strangely went missing. Great news, though! This one has extra features! Even more of me!"

He stepped back and sat down on the, now empty, sofa. Behind him, he heard a scraping, where his family were desperately clawing to get out. "You're wasting your time. I've locked all the doors."


	2. Sneaking In

**Chapter 2: Sneaking In**

Sylvester was sat in his trailer, with nothing to do but read a magazine review that was calling his roll a frivolous waste of screen time.

Getting a phone call from Peter was almost a relief. "I warned you this might happen. He likes to keep us hanging around in case he has a moment's inspiration. He probably won't… Yes, all right. I will. Well, good luck then. Bye!"

Sylvester had a look at his watch. Judging by his track record, Peter Jackson probably wouldn't be calling him out for another three days or so. "Oh, to hell with it. Let's live dangerously." He pulled out a pen and scribbled a note, before heading for the nearest airport.

* * *

"Colin, we're on. Thursday morning. You know where." Said Peter.

This was it. Thursday morning, they would take the fight directly to the BBC. They would make themselves heard. Show them they weren't past their best. From that day, things would start to happen!

* * *

On an overcast Thursday morning, Peter stood outside the BBC Television Centre, holding a placard that read _NO 'CLASSICS'? NO 50TH!_

To one side, Colin and Sylvester were watching him, with signs to one side reading _5 DOCTORS 4 JUSTICE_ and _HAVE A HEART. CLASSIC DOCTORS WANT A PART_. The three of them were taking it in turns to stand up and drink tea.

"Sugar?" Said Colin.

"Ah! Decisions. Will it make a difference?" Said Sylvester.

"What?"

"Every great decision creates ripples."

"In your tea?"

"Like a big boulder dropping into a lake."

Colin groaned. "Oh Sylvester, if you don't stop quoting yourself I'll put you back on the plane myself."

"I got it a bit wrong actually."

"Oh, what's the use of a good quote if you can't change it. You all right?"

"I don't know. I have this sinking feeling…"

* * *

On the other side of the world, assistant director Bruno Dubios knocked on Sylvester's door. Finding it unlocked, he stepped in. "They're ready for you on set. Sylvester?" He looked round the empty trailer, before finding a note pined to a board.

* * *

"Something I don't understand," said Colin, "is where's all this synthesised music coming from?"

"I think it's from him." Said Sylvester, pointing to a frizzy haired man, not far away who'd been playing music on his laptop all day, grinning unnervingly.

Sylvester looked back at Peter. "Do you think we should join him?"

"No. Leave him to it." Said Colin.

"What's happened to Paul?"

"Filming commitments."

"TV?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't start."

* * *

Peter Jackson was busy debating Orkish war cries with an extra who'd read the appendices thoroughly, when he saw Bruno hurrying his way with a look of panic.

* * *

Sylvester heard his phone buzzing. He pulled it out, and saw a picture of Peter Jackson on the caller ID. "Oh deer."

* * *

Peter Jackson hurried franticly round the forest of green screens, until he finaly found Sir Ian McKellan, lounged on the steps of Dul Guldur, in his Gandalf outfit. "Ian. There's a problem with Sylvester."

"Sylvester… who?" Said Ian.

"McCoy." Ian looked at him blankly. "Er - little bloke. Bird poo?" Glimmers of recognition seeped through. "He's just gone, his trailer is empty, he's left a note - some garbled nonsense about Doctor Who. The same old stuff, it's like - he's just - he's gone. Er, is there any chance, Sir Ian, that you'd be able to do the scene by yourself?"

"To tell you the truth Peter, I think it might be an improvement." Ian shrugged.

* * *

As Sylvester listened to a voicemail message, which contained a few more swear words than was strictly necessary, John Barrowman made his way through the gates. "Hey Peter." He passed by, then backed up for another look at his placard. "You know they film it in Cardiff, don't you?" He walked off, laughing slightly.

"Bugger." Said Peter.

* * *

John had almost made it to his car, which was just down the road, when he heard voices behind him, calling his name. He turned back to see the Doctors running towards him. "Oh no."

"John… any…" Peter panted.

Colin looked at his colleagues, confused as to why they were out of breath. "Any chance of a lift to Cardiff?"

"Ah, hey guys, I can't, sorry. I'm out on the town tonight." John said nervously.

"Who've you got in the car with you?" Said Colin.

John franticly tried to shield the car's interior from them. "Er, just some of the guys, you know?"

But they dodged past him, and promptly went wide eyed.

"Blimey!"

"I had no idea!"

"Well. We'll, er, leave you to it then."

In the car, John Barrowman had a wife and two kids. He'd been straight the whole time and nobody had realised!

"Y-you won't tell anyone?" He said.

"Oh, don't worry." Colin smirked, as they crassly walked away.

"Daddy! I'm hungry!" Shouted his daughter.

"I told you, we've got to clear out the spare room for mum's visit!" Said his wife. "So get back in the car, and let's go home. Now!"

"Daddy, now! I'm gonna scream! AAAAAAAH!" Shouted the girl.

John wasn't really listening. He was too busy thinking what the world would think of him if they knew about what he'd been getting up to behind closed doors. Finally, he reached a decision and called after the Doctors. "Hey, guys! Let's do it! Let's rock 'n' roll!"

The Doctors cheered and climbed into the car, leaving the rest of the Barrowmans behind. From the look on their faces, they could not be happy to have to go through stuff like this again.

John even let them pick a CD to put on, though the only choices were CDs of his show tunes, all of which he sang along to, full pelt, all the way down the M4, across the Severn Bridge and into Cardiff.

Finally, they pulled up outside Roath Lock, where John dropped them off with copies of his albums and DVDs.

"This way." Said Peter, leading.

"Hold on, isn't this the…" Colin began, but shrugged as Peter moved off. He assumed, Peter knew something he didn't.

The three of them walked through the glittering front of the Doctor Who Experience. Naturally, they assumed they could walk straight in.

"Oi!" The receptionist called them over. "It's £45, between you, for entrance."

"But were…" They gestured to the t shirt replicas of their outfits they were wearing.

The receptionist didn't look impressed.

The three of them rummaged for some money. Finding none, they thought for a moment, before holding up the John Barrowman memorabilia they'd brought with them.

To their surprise, the receptionist sighed and printed off three tickets. He took the CDs and DVDs and dropped them in a box full of similar items, which he'd labelled _BARROWMAN!_

The Doctors made their way through the introductory video from Matt Smith, and on through a room which contained reconstructions of two more TARDIS console rooms. Colin was increasingly confused, but Peter seemed to know what he was doing. "Where are we going now?" Said Colin.

He looked back to Sylvester for support, but saw the Scot staring wistfully at something. They followed his eye line, to see him staring at their old costumes, up on dummies and paused for some quiet reflection themselves. Remembering the glory days.

"This way." Said Peter. He led them to a TARDIS prop in a small replication of Forman's Junkyard and stepped in confidently.

Colin looked round in further confusion, before following him in. Sylvester had one last look to make sure no one was looking, then followed.

Once inside, Peter lit a small torch, and they found themselves in a cubbord the size of a phone box.

"Oh. It's not the actual TARDIS then." Said Peter. He'd forgotten he'd left that in Los Angeles.

"You really are from another planet aren't you?" Colin groaned.

"I'd like to go home now." Said Sylvester.

Peter pulled his phone out. "Time for plan B."

* * *

"I thought they were doing their protest in London." David Tennant said over the phone. "Who brought them to Cardiff?" Upon hearing his wife's response he barred his fist. "BARROWMAN! Why can't they just drop it?"

"I know, I know, but Dad said if you do this one last thing then he'll stop calling us." Said Georgia.

"Yeah OK, OK, OK, OK, I'll do it. I'll do it, I'll do it. But I'd better do it now because they need me back on set in five minutes. OK. Call you later."

He heard her say "Oh, ha…" before he rung off. He paused. Wasn't there something he was supposed to ask about? Oh, it was probably nothing.

* * *

"Oh, never mind." Georgia sighed.

At the same time the midwife took her hand. "And push."

Georgia screamed in pain as she tried to push the baby out.

* * *

David gently eased the fire door open. He looked around outside, before leaving a fire extinguisher in the way. If they wanted to make a fool of themselves crashing the set, all the power to them.

From a fair distance away, Peter was watching carefully from behind a pillar. "Lets go."

"Hold on." Said Colin. "Those Dalek operators will see us."

"How can you tell?"

"Well look." They watched as three men moved down the centre of the pavement, equispaced apart and manoeuvring round all the bumps and cracks in the road. When they had to cross, they walked ten metres down the road to use a ramp, rather than step up the kerb.

As they waited for the coast to clear, Sylvester took the opportunity to ask an important question. "Why are we doing this?"

"Why?" Said Colin.

"Well, I've travelled twelve thousand miles to get here, I'm in breach of contract, my film career's in tatters, and for what?"

"He's right. What is the point? Why are we doing all this?" Said Colin.

Peter thought for a moment. "For the fans."

"Of course. For the fans!" Colin smiled.

"For the fans." Declared Sylvester. "Let's go."

Seeing the coast clear, they hurried through the fire door. They were immediately met by a wall of orchestral music. Confused, they stepped back outside, where the frizzy haired man was still playing his synthesised tunes, having followed them from London. Thy stepped back in, once again, the orchestra sound hit them.

Peter peered into the nearest room, and saw Murray Gold practicing in there, having stuffed his entire orchestra into a room the size of a small café. That explained that.

They made their way quietly through the corridors, ignoring the Dalek prop that turned to look at them. Finally, they found a TARDIS prop, which could serve as a changing room. From a black bin bag, they pulled out the outfits they'd stolen from the Experience and pulled them on. Some kids would have to go disappointed for the day.

"I rather like this coat you know." Said Colin. "Because I'm the only one who doesn't have to look at it."

They snuck further and further, until they found themselves on the set of the current TARDIS. They were not impressed.

"It's a bit… busy. Isn't it?" Said Peter. "I liked the old minimalist TARDIS."

"I don't like all these stairs. Much too energetic." Sylvester said, before waving his hands over the spinney thing over the column. "And what the heck are those things? Have they turned it into a helicopter?"

Colin squinted at the control panel. "And what's happened to all the lovely bright light we had in the old days? I can't be doing with this atmospheric lighting nonsense! I like to see what I'm doing!"

Peter prodded on a wall. "Look at this, look. You lean on it, nothing happens! Doesn't wobble at all! I used to love the old wobble."

But they weren't going to get anywhere by comparing the old and the new. "Come on." Said Colin. "Let's see where they're filming."

They followed the sounds of filming through the corridors. Knowing they were getting closer, carefully looking round any corners in case of security guards or overenthusiastic villain actors.

As he peered round one corner, Peter doubled back hurriedly. "Dalek operators! They're coming!" He whispered. They looked at the corridor behind them, knowing, there wasn't enough time to make it to the end before the operators reached the corner.


	3. Running Through Corridors

**Chapter 3: Running Through Corridors**

Fortunately, the operators stopped and went into a room just before the corner.

The Doctors breathed a sigh of relief and continued on thir way, passing the door in question, on which was posted signs saying _Dalek Operators' room. Quiet please, superior life forms at work._

They finally found the set, where a handful of people were stood around watching _Day Of The Doctor _being filmed. The three of them stood, quietly at the back.

"So what now?" Whispered Sylvester.

"Yes. This was your brilliant idea. How do we get in?" Said Colin.

Peter was just looking wistfully at the actors. "They're quite good, aren't they? Thing is, I never really thought we'd get this far."

"Oh, no plan C then?" Said Colin.

"No."

As they pondered what to do next, they heard the director shouting "And cut!

Moving on. Right, scene 19. Can we have three Daleks on set, please?"

The Doctors looked at each other, the same plan crystallising in each of their heads.

* * *

In a room lined with more Dalek models than _Planet Of The Daleks_, and with an ancestral portrait of Davaros on the wall, three men were sat on the sofa reading _The Dalek Operator's Gazette._

Hearing the call on the radio, they set their magazines down. "That's us lads. Time to give our all." Said the first.

They made their way to the door, only to hear it click. Upon trying the handle, they found it locked. "Some toe rag's locked the door!" Said the second.

"What?" Said the third, and hammered on the door. "Hey! Let us out!"

Outside, the Doctors hurried away.

After a good ten minutes banging and shouting, the operators gave up and returned to their magazines. "Well, it's their loss, brothers. That's the way I see it. Their loss."

* * *

"I am still waiting for my three Daleks!" The director shouted in frustration, before finally seeing three Daleks slide into view. "Listen to me. You cannot afford to be late. You are lucky enough to have a part in the fiftieth anniversary special of Doctor Who, right, that is something that makes you a part of the history of the show. That is something you will never forget. Do you understand?"

The Daleks spun their eyestalks round to look at each other, before turning back to him and nodding them up and down.

Sometime later, the filming was complete. "Thank you very much. Moving on to the TARDIS set - thank you Daleks, that's you done."

Colin spun the eyestalk to look at his comrades. "Gentlemen. I think we've done it!"

"We certainly have!" Said Sylvester.

"Brilliant!" They all laughed triumphantly.

They then pointed the eyestalks down. "So - how do we get out? Oh. Eh? Er - hello?"

* * *

Outside, a security guard was just on his way back from inspecting the security at the coffee bar, when he spotted it. The fire door was ajar. Upon closer inspection, he saw a fire extinguisher propped inside. "Team." He said into the radio. "I think we have intruders."

He hurried away to find the others, while Dan Starkey stood watching bemused, in his Sontaran costume, and a dressing gown.

* * *

Cristian Bassington heard a faint voice calling for help and went to investigate, only to find an empty set. "Hello?" He called.

He leapt back in alarm as the three Dalek eyestalks spun round to face him.

After apologising profusely, he helped them out of the Daleks. They seemed familiar to him. "Wait, aren't you…"

"Oh no." Said Peter. "We just look like them. Goodbye."

"It says here the Dalek operators are also playing Zygons."

"No no, it's a mistake. Our work here is done." Said Colin, as they all marched away.

"Zygons? What on earth are Zygons?" Said Sylvester.

"Well, I'm sure we booked you for the whole day." Said Christian.

"Sorry. Must dash." Said Peter.

As they left, Christian stood confused. Was he just imagining things or were the classic series Doctors sneaking on set?

As if in answer to his question, two guards came in through the other door. "Three of them. Dressed in stupid clothes. Illegal aliens, I shouldn't wonder."

* * *

The Doctors moved out into the walkway between two buildings, pleased with their success. They fell short suddenly, when two guards came out of the door in front of them. Fortunately, they turned left. But it wasn't long before they paused and turned back. By then, the Doctors had run off.

They hurried through the nearest door in search of somewhere to hide, and found themselves in the production offices, full of people who turned to stare at them. They hurriedly looked round for some cover, so everyone could get bored and get back to work.

Minutes later, a guard came in. He looked around for a few moments, before spotting three people sat in the corner. One holding Doctor Who Magazine's guide to the fifth Doctor in front of them. The second holding the guide to the sixth Doctor. The third holding the guide to the seventh Doctor.

The guard marched up and pushed the magazines aside. Behind them were producer Des Hughes, production co-ordinator Gabriella Ricci and production secretary Sandra Cosfeld.

As the guard apologised, the Doctors slipped out of their hiding place and hurried down out the door and down the walkway, where they pulled desperately at the gate at the end. Unsurprisingly, it was locked.

"Oy!" Called a voice. "Can I have a word with you?"

* * *

Doug had found nothing where he was looking, so he got on the radio. "Des, come in Des. Any sign of them at your end?"

* * *

"Hang on." Said Des. "I'm in the middle of something here." He looked up at the Doctors, who were busy signing autographs.

"So that's Rosie with a Y or an IE?" Said Sylvester.

"IE."

"Funny name for a fella." Colin said, and they all laughed.

"Any chance you could, er, unlock the gates." Said Peter.

"Er, no. I can get Doug down though, if you really want..."

"No, no." Peter said quickly. "We'll just cut through the studio."

They left, and wandered back into the studio, where the director was coordinating the start of the under gallery scene.

* * *

Doug found Des out in the walkway. "Any sign of them?"

"No. I did meet three cool blokes though."

Doug raised an eyebrow. "Three?"

Des groaned at his own stupidity, and together, they hurried into the studio, only for the director to shout at them.

"Sorry, guys - unless you've got fiftieth anniversary clearance, you'll have to get off the set, please. Right everyone, this is the Under-gallery scene…"

The guards left to look elsewhere.

* * *

Having escaped without too much trouble, the Doctors were waiting by the bus stop, drinking champagne from cardboard cups. "Cheers!"

"Exterminate." Colin laughed.

Peter turned to the film crew that had been filming _The Five(ish) Doctors_ Reboot all day. "That's it. We can stop there."

"You have to say cut."

"Sorry. And, cut!"

The film crew promptly packed up and Peter thanked them all.

Sylvester came up to Peter, pointing to the man with the laptop, who was sat at the bus stop still playing his music. "Who is he? And why is he still here?"

"I don't know, I thought he was with you." Said Peter.

They turned to look at the man, who promptly explained. "Oh, I'm just taking some notes for the novelisation."

"Don't you have work to do?" Said Colin.

The man slapped his forehead. "I knew I'd forgotten something!"

At this point, Peter's phone started ringing. He took a look and frowned. "I was expecting this one." He hit a tab and put Russell T. Davis through to voicemail.

"Hi, Peter? hello. It's Russell T here. Russell The Davies! ha, funny! Erm, I just thought I'd phone you because I heard you were doing this video? for the fiftieth anniversary? and I thought - well, I thought I could be in it! Because let's face it, there wouldn't actually be a fiftieth anniversary without me, without Russell T. I had these ideas, I thought I could appear at the end? I could like, sort of, I could save you all. You could all be trapped and I could save you, or, you could all die, and I could just be left there. I become the Doctor, a Time Lord, and - I could have a catchphrase? I could have a great catchphrase, like, my catchphrase could be "Quel dommage!". Like, "Quel dommage, Davros!". Like, and I could, like, and instead of like having a sonic screwdriver I could have and..."

By the time his message was complete, it was 27 minutes long. When Peter looked, he listened for ten seconds, before deleting it.

* * *

Two weeks later, Christian was helping Steven make the final adjustments to the finished scenes. "Happy?"

"Very happy."

"Up next is scene 19. Daleks attack."

Steven bit his lip. "Scene 19… Right… Three Daleks."

"Shall we start?"

"I'm just wondering if we need it." He looked to Christian for an opinion.

"Works just as well without it." Christian shrugged.

"And they are Daleks..." He had got a bit fed up with using them all the time.

"We are overrunning by ten minutes."

"Are we? Great, let's cut it then." Steven nodded.

Christian looked through his notes. "Up next is the under gallery scene."

"Now that scene's definitely in. But we will have to review all the footage."

"All the footage right from the top, OK." He started the video at the point where the camera me were doing the lighting check.

Steven's phone suddenly rang. "I have to take this."

Christian was about to pause the video, when he spotted something.

He watched as the director was chastising a continuity adviser. "No, the sand needs to go all the way back to here." He pointed to a corner, where the Doctors were hiding from the security guards. "Oh Zygons, right. Er, OK, you should be in costume. But it doesn't matter for this shot. Can you get shrouds for the Zygons please?"

The runners handed sheets to each of the startled Doctors, who threw them over themselves and went to stand on the podiums, as directed. Sylvester put his hat on over the shroud, only to get shouted at by the director and take it off.

At this point, Steven returned. "How's it looking?"

Christian considered telling him, but decided that it would be more trouble than it was worth. Besides, let the classics have their moment, however insignificant. "Perfect. Couldn't be better. So - here's take 1."

They watched as Matt Smith's Doctor was led through the set, completely unaware that the shrouds covered actual people.

* * *

**Author's Notes: The joke about the behind the scenes documentary didn't make as much sense in prose, so I re-worked the idea. Plus, I just felt like cameoing.**

**Next time: The Doctor's Wife.**


End file.
